


Breathe No More

by flyingspaghettimonster



Category: Brave (2012), How to Train Your Dragon (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Character Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Family Loss, Nightmares, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 03:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingspaghettimonster/pseuds/flyingspaghettimonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A deadly virus has swept the globe and has plunged the world into a zombie apocalypse. Ruffnut and Macintosh are amongst the throng survivors across the world, left without their families or friends. Though they were just friends in the beginning, their feelings just might be growing into something more. But with the world falling apart and their chances of survival dimming, could they possibly deal with losing one another?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe No More

**Author's Note:**

> I totally pulled this out of my ass and it sucks, but I tried my best. I also snuck a Doctor Who reference in there because of reasons.

The virus had swept the entire globe. 

No one knew where it came from, who had it first, or how it spread. The important thing was that it happened. 

Miranda “Ruffnut” Thorston had lost her entire family to the virus. Her father, her step-mother, and all five of her brothers, including her twin brother. She had been tempted to simply take her own life so she wouldn’t have to deal with the grief and trauma of having to shoot her entire family to save herself with the shotgun her father kept in their shed. 

All of her friends had been taken by the virus as well. Every single one of them. So…what was the point of living anymore? It would save her a whole world of grief. 

When she had been prepared to shoot herself in the head, a large, calloused hand had clamped down on her wrist and wrenched the gun out of her hand. 

Macintosh. 

He had moved from Scotland the year before. She hasn’t spoken to him to often in school, only on a few occasions during gym class or in English class. They had been more like acquaintances then, and for some reason he had stopped and convinced her not to take her own life when he could have just walked away and saved himself the trouble. They have been at each other’s side ever since. 

Ruffnut’s hometown in had been completely deserted, with only a few straggling zombies here and there. The two had been able to raid the pharmacies, every single store that sold weapons and survival supplies, the supermarkets, clothing stores and dealerships for the vehicle with the best living conditions. 

Finding the Earthroamer XV-LT had been a complete miracle. A camper with tolerable living space and a large enough bed, with a working fridge and sink. It had enough room to keep their supplies, little nooks and crannies for their arsenal of weapons (she kept a tomahawk and a few shotguns under the passenger seat). 

With a full tank of gas, they drove as far away as they could without being too far away from civilization, should they need to stock up on supplies. They stayed there, since the zombies, or Moaners, as she liked to call them, haven’t wandered that far yet. But when they did, they would be ready.

The two didn’t converse too much, mostly because they didn’t have anything to say. Both of them were still grieving over the loss of their families and friends; what could they possibly say to each other? At night, Macintosh had a habit of spooning her from behind - not that she minded - and burying his face in her hair. She never told him not to, in fact, it made her relax and sleep easier. Nightmares were frequent for both of them; waking up shaking and crying was normal, as well as waking up to comfort the other.

She tried to ignore the fact that they were becoming closer as the days passed. She tried to distance herself from him, but it was so hard. He was her rock, her support, the one who quelled her panic attacks and helped her get back to sleep after a nightmare. Hell, he even helped her chop a good portion of her hair off to save her from being grabbed by it. And now she took notice of how her stomach would flutter every time he smiled at her, how her heart would beat faster when he held her at night. She now realized that she was in dangerous territory now.

She was falling in love with him.

She didn’t want to have feelings for him. She was terrified that if she fell for him and acted on it, and he returned her feelings, that there was a chance that she would lose him. She didn’t think she’d be able to handle losing the only person she had left.

—

The morning had started off slow. They were running low on supplies and decided that it was time to drive off to the nearest town to stock up on supplies. They strapped as many weapons as they could carry; knives strapped to their belts, two guns in holsters for each of them, even brass knuckles over their gloves in case they ran into raiders. Ruffnut had two machetes strapped to her back, while Macintosh was armed with a European long sword. Both of them had donned wetsuits and applied duct tape overtop (being mindful of avoiding the joints); after all, Moaners were once human, meaning their teeth were blunt. Coupled with the clothes they wore overtop, there was no chance that they would be bitten.

Macintosh parked behind the town’s supermarket as Ruffnut finished tying her now shoulder-length hair into a halo braid. The pair unbuckled their seatbelts and adjusted their holsters and sheaths, making sure there was nothing loose. They double-checked everything; if a single thing was out of place, it could ruin their chances of making it out alive.

"Okay," She said, sitting back in her seat. "We have to make this quick: we go in, take as much as we can, and get out fast. We need to be as quiet as possible. If we see Moaners, we either take them down or get out and go somewhere else."

"Seems easy enough," Macintosh stated.

"Well, it’s now or never."

The two exited the vehicle as quietly as possible and snuck in through the back door. It took them a bit to find where they kept the non-perishables, but when they did, they immediately began to pile the cans and jars and boxes into garbage bags. Macaroni, canned beans, peanut butter, tuna, anything they could get their hands on.

CLANG!

The two winced when the canned pineapple slipped off the shelf and onto the cement floor. They froze, waiting for anything to happen. Moaners were attracted by noise and movement, so if they were spotted, they needed to get out fast.

Nothing.

Sighing in relief, they continued piling food into the bags, moving much quicker now that they could have alerted someone of their presence.

Just as they finished, Ruffnut could have sworn she a noise behind them. She grabbed Macintosh’s shoulder and put a finger to her lips, indicating that they needed to be quiet. They placed the bags down and drew their largest weapons, preparing for the worst.

Before either of them could react, a flash of red met her vision and an excruciating pain erupted in her right thigh. Yelping in pain, she fell to her knees and dropped one of her machetes to clutch the area; an perfectly carved arrow was embedded in her thigh. Blood was already coating her hands, seeping through her wetsuit, duct tape and pants.

“Fuck!” She exclaimed, gritting her teeth. She whipped her head around to look at who had shot her; a girl who looked to be about her age, with wild red hair and a bow in her hands. At first she thought she was a Moaner, but they couldn’t lift things up, let alone wield a bow.

“Identify yerselves!” The redhead demanded, aiming another arrow.

“We’re not undead stupid!” Ruffnut snarled back.

“I said identify yerselves!”

“Macintosh,” Ruffnut’s companion stated, kneeling down to help put pressure around her wound. “This is Miranda. We were jost getting’ some food.”

The redhead looked skeptical, but lowered her bow and put the arrow away. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“What, yelling at us or shooting me with a fucking arrow?!” Ruffnut snapped. “The least you could have done was made us identify ourselves before you shot me.”

“I said I’m sorry!” The other girl snapped.

“Merida?”

“Over here Da’!” The girl called over her shoulder.

A mountainous man appeared around the corner, a sword clutched in his hands and three full garbage bags thrown over his shoulder.

“Raiders?” He inquired. Merida shook her head.

“Nae, jost survivors gettin’ some food.”

The redhead’s father watched them carefully as Macintosh carefully grabbed the shaft of the arrow and broke it in two, making Ruffnut cringe and grunt in pain. He threw his jacket and shirt, using the shirt to wrap it around her thigh, as close to the arrow as possible. He slid his jacket back on before helping his companion stand.

“Are ye’ Macintosh’s boy?” The man asked.

Macintosh looked surprised and intrigued. “Yes. How’d ya know?”

“Ye’ look just ‘im. A dead ringer, I’d say.”

Macintosh cracked the tiniest of smiles, but it died as soon as it appeared. He was prepared to reply, but the sound of fists banging against metal echoed through the room. Ruffnut felt her stomach drop as she reached down to grab her fallen blades, preparing for the worst. All of them were silent, all of them twisting and turning, waiting for whatever was out there to make its move. A crash, then staggering footsteps from around the corner.

Moaners. And a lot of them.

Merida immediately began firing arrows into their skulls, backing away to stand next to her father. Macintosh sliced off the head of the first Moaner that came near him, then planted his steel-toed boot into the stomach of the second one.

Ruffnut, meanwhile, swiftly swung her machete into the nearest Moaner’s head, digging deeply into its head and brain. It went limp, and she pulled the blade out and lashed out at the next one that came near. The flat side of the blade hit it in the side of its head, knocking it to the ground with an unceremonious thump. Planting her good foot on its chest, she dug the machete into its chest and whipped out her tomahawk to embed the pointed end into its eye, effectively killing it.

A pair of hands clasped her arm tightly and she felt teeth digging into her arm; unfortunately for the zombie, human teeth couldn’t penetrate through regular clothes, duct tape and a wet suit. Growling in a mix of pain and rage, she swung the tomahawk and took it out with a blow to its temple.

“Ruff!”

She whipped her head around and saw Macintosh take down the last of the Moaners and beckon for her to come with him. After belting her tomahawk and sheathing her blades, she limped towards him and threw one of their bags over her shoulder. The two of them, followed by Merida and her father, fled the area and turned corner after corner to try and find the way they came in.

Finding it was the easy part, and getting past the Moaners right down the hallway would be easy too if Ruffnut didn’t have an arrow in her leg. The moment they had been spotted, they booked it as fast as possible to the door and out to their respective getaway vehicles, closing the door behind them.

As they loaded their bags into their camper when the Moaners from inside began banging on the door; it was only a matter of time before they broke it down. Biting her lip, she limped back and began to wheel the dumpster they had parked behind to block the door.

“Smart,” Macintosh stated, adjusting his jacket.

Ruffnut shrugged. “I know.”

Suddenly, a hand latched onto her arm and yanked, causing it to crack audibly. A searing hot pain erupted in her shoulder and she began to scream in panic and pain when she locked eyes with the zombie that must have been hiding in the dumpster. She grabbed her tomahawk with her free hand as the zombie dug his teeth into her forearm ineffectively and dug the pointed end into the back of its skull. She backed away, gripping her shoulder in agony and gritting her teeth. Macintosh ran up and picked her up bridal style before jogging to their camper and dumping her into the passenger seat.

She didn’t have the energy to argue with him.

The tires screeched and squealed as her only friend floored it out of the area and back to their hiding area.

—

The shirt wrapped around her leg was almost completely soaked in blood by the time the camper came to a halt. Ruffnut had spent the majority of the drive with her forehead pressed against the window, staring at the scenery as it passed dazedly.

Macintosh unbuckled his seatbelt and exited the vehicle and rounded to her side to delicately pull her out. She groaned and tensed as he carried her into the camper. Setting her down on the nearest chair, he turned to shuffle through the medical supplies they had.

Setting down the supplies he had selected, Macintosh sat next to her and firmly took her forearm and shoulder in his hands, examining the damage.

“’Tis dislocated lass,” he stated. “Ahm gonna have t’ reset it. ‘s is gonna hurt like bitch.”

Ruffnut nodded in understanding and squeezed her eyes shut, turning her head away. His hands squeezed tighter and began to push, making her grunt and squirm in pain. With a snap, her shoulder popped back into place. She grit her teeth together and let her head thump against the counter next to her.

She had dislocated her shoulders many times, being the reckless girl she had always been known for, but every time she had gotten it set she had been either unconscious or under anesthesia of some sort. This was so much worse than she could have imagined it being.

Her companion produced an ice pack and pressed it to her shoulder. “Keep i’ there, I’ll get ye some painkillers.”

Downing the Opium with water made her feel comforted in the fact that it was going to help her, but it didn’t quell her nerves over the arrow still lodged in her leg. Macintosh got down on his knees and examined the wound with a scrutinizing gaze.

“’M gonna twist the arrow a bi’, ta see if it’s lodged in the bone.”

And god damn, it hurt. Ruffnut had been extremely tempted to kick him in the side as payback for making her hurt so much, but she knew that he couldn’t help it, so she decided against it. It wasn’t lodged in the bone though, thankfully, as the layers they had dressed in had proved to keep the arrow from going in too deep to be serious.

It had taken a bit, but the arrow had been carefully removed. There hadn’t been a lot of blood after its removal, as the painkillers she had taken had slowed her heart down a little, meaning less blood spilt. After performing the laborious task of removing the layers she had and having Macintosh help her dress the wound and make a makeshift sling for her shoulder, she carefully climbed onto the bed and collapsed onto it.

Macintosh climbed into the bed next to her and curled up behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her close.

“I was scared for ye’,” he mumbled. “Thought you were gonna die on me.”

Ruffnut scoffed at him over her shoulder. “Please, they can’t get rid of me that easy. Who do you think I am, Rory Williams? Well, if I had died and I was Rory Williams, chances are I would come back to life, right?”

Macintosh snickered and tightened his grip on her; her stomach fluttered a little, and she buried her face in her pillow to hide her growing blush.

“I guess so.”


End file.
